


The Way I Danced With You

by chiasmus



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dancing, First Kiss, Goodbyes, M/M, Shared Dreams, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiasmus/pseuds/chiasmus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik share one last dance. Slightly AU movie coda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way I Danced With You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright version of "Careless Whisper". This is rather a dramatic departure from what I usually write, in that it's both canon and angsty.

Erik doesn't sleep for forty-eight hours after he and Charles part ways. This is the duration Charles is unconscious in the hospital while recovering from surgery. Erik sent Azazel back to take Charles and the kids to Mount Sinai. Even if they are enemies now, Erik still doesn't wish harm upon him – upon any of them. Along with Raven, Erik checks into a hotel in the city. He calls up a favor owed to him by an old contact to keep an eye on Charles.

At last, Erik receives the message Charles has awoken. Raven retreats to her room, leaving Erik in his. They should leave then, but neither of them can quite face everyone else yet.

Instead, Erik sleeps, and when he does, he dreams.

–

Erik's back in the study Charles always favored, one out of many, though Erik never knew what made this one special and now, he supposes, he never will. The detail isn't important (except that inexplicably it is), doesn't keep everything from having a damnable sense of _familiarity_. He wonders, now that he has the freedom to do so, if familiarity would have ever become belonging, would have ever become home.

"I always liked this room most," Charles says, leaning against the door frame, suddenly just _there_. The words echo Erik's earlier thought; too close to be real. The image of Charles, all bright blue eyes, slightly rumpled hair and cardigan; too close to not be real.

"It is what you want it to be," Charles says. "Or rather, what we can agree upon."

"I'm sleeping," Erik says, the realization abrupt.

"You are. And I'm not," Charles says. "I don't wish to be invasive–"

"–but you don't mind that you are," Erik says.

Charles frowns. "I can go."

"Stay," Erik says hastily, somehow almost tripping over the one word.

"I don't know how long I can manage to, but I will," Charles says.

"I didn't want–" Erik starts.

"I know," Charles interrupts. "May I make a request? One that I hope you can, at least here, comply to."

The latter, careless comment sets Erik's teeth on edge. "Go ahead."

Charles walks over to start a record. The one and only song he and Charles ever danced to fills the room. Erik's heart constricts and his mouth goes dry as Charles' lips quirk at the edges into a smile. "One more time," he says softly, walking over to Erik and extending his hand.

It's difficult to breathe. The music and words hit like a punch to the gut. Normally pain is sharpened into something dangerous, which has over the years made it bearable and made him stronger. Not like this, not wrapped in something gentle enough to shatter his heart. He takes Charles' hand. "This once, I'll do this for you," he says.

"Thank you, my friend," Charles whispers, and he sounds like Erik feels, Charles' voice unsteady and breaking.

Erik first leads Charles through the simple dance moves, something like a waltz but more complicated and poorly timed. Charles' hand begins lightly held in Erik's, and at some point their fingers lace together, fitting tightly together like nothing could come between them right then. The record goes on for longer than Erik remembers it being, but he doesn't complain, instead lets everything shift so Charles leads now. There are missteps and they are both far from perfect in form. Erik doesn't care, nor does Charles.

From somewhere deep inside, Erik thinks that he could stay like this with Charles, could keep dancing with him here in this real and not real place, and maybe, just maybe, they could both find some kind of solace. He crushes the thought as soon as it surfaces; it's one he can't afford to have. Charles buries his face against Erik's shoulder, doesn't remark upon it though he probably heard it, felt it all the same. The music stops, but they keep moving slowly, because Erik doesn't know what will happen otherwise.

Too long, not long enough. Charles pulls back to look at Erik; he's still beautiful and his eyes are still like the clearest summer sky Erik will ever know. Emboldened by having nothing else to lose and the benefit of solitude, Erik does what he never managed to do in reality, and presses his lips to Charles'. Charles gasps softly, then melts into Erik, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him back with as much, if not more, ardor than Erik gives him.

When they pull apart, they have stopped moving. There are so many things left unsaid and unfinished between them, but Erik can't bring anything else to the surface.

"Do you want–" Charles tries, chokes on the words, then manages, "–do you want to remember this?"

Yes. No. Erik _wants_ to. But he can't.

Charles nods, an uncertain twist to his lips, and Erik kisses him again if only to stem the indecision. This belongs to Charles; it is not Erik's to keep. He knows what he'll have to do in the waking world from each day hereon out, what he can and can't carry with him.

Everything is dimming around the edges. The study shifts into something grayer and colder and not in America at all, much less Westchester, New York. Charles remains a second longer as everything else slips away.

"Goodbye," Erik says; to the moment, more so than to Charles. He'll see Charles again – an inevitability as long as they both draw breath. It just won't be _this_.

Charles says nothing, smiles sadly, and –

– with a jerk Erik comes awake. The pipes in the walls are creaking in an alarming fashion and the alarm clock next to his bed won't ever quite be the same. Someone pounds on his door and Erik stops. The sudden silence lets Erik hear Raven say his name tentatively, but he doesn't move, doesn't unlock the door either, the tumblers and pins fused together in the lock.

Erik tries to remember what he dreamed, but when he tries he realizes it has already slipped away. No trace remains, but he feels colder. Still exhausted, he goes back to sleep.

Charles isn't there.


End file.
